


In Between

by The_Real_Squoose



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Basically all the moments we missed between, Canon Compliant, Crushes, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Fight, Gay Panic, Grizz being an idiot, Library, Mild Angst, Okay I know I said mild angst but things have changed, Prom, Texting, Thanksgiving, also hurrah for once this is kind of, and, i finally get to use that tag, i love them, the
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-05-30 16:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Real_Squoose/pseuds/The_Real_Squoose
Summary: Grizz leans forward to catch his attention. “I could get you a drink?”“Already had plenty.” Sam raises his empty glass.“Oh,” Grizz says. He sinks back into his chair. “Yeah, me too.”Sam swirls the ice in his glass and Grizz goes back to thinking about things from the flip side. Liking beautiful, red-haired and blue-eyed boys who will never, ever, feel the same for him.





	1. I Love You Without Knowing How

“I mean- well, would you? Would you want to dance?” Grizz can’t get his thoughts together. It’s already been proven many times that he can’t keep anything straight, least of all himself, but he’d hoped to at least make a better first impression. Better first New-Ham-Grizz impression.

“After that speech?” Sam asks, shaking his head. Bean tries to get the dance back on track, but it’s a slow process. Like coaxing out shy animals as she plays music louder than their fears.

“Yeah,” Grizz sighs. “Yeah, but I don’t want the night to be ruined. Look- they’re dancing… oh, don’t look at them.” Grizz cringes and Sam glances toward the couple, immediately gaining the same expression. When he looks back to Grizz, disgust written across his face, Grizz can’t help but laugh. “I told you not to look.”

Sam stares at him incredulously and starts to laugh too.

_Although,_ Grizz thinks, _if I’ve already made a hypermasculine-dumb-jock impression, there’s not really any going back anyways. Can’t make it worse, only better._ That’s the thing he keeps in mind when he asks again, “Do you want to dance?”

A beat of silence. Sam’s face is unreadable. “I’m tired. It’s kind of awkward being alone, anyway.”

“You’re not alone,” Grizz says. Sam raises his eyebrows and Grizz catches a wisp of his true feelings. Sam’s… doubtful. Cautious, like he thinks Grizz is going to turn on him. All things considered, Grizz hates to admit it, but it’s a fair worry. “I thought you came with Becca.”

He should’ve known that was the wrong thing to say long before it came out of his mouth- he’s lucky Sam doesn’t look as mortified as Grizz feels. Instead, the boy takes it with grace. “We had a fight. She went home.”

_Mortification increases,_ Grizz thought to himself. What the hell, self. What’s up with that? Stop saying stupid things like- “So…”

“I’ll owe you one,” Sam concedes, then continues looking away. Grizz instantly feels a few levels less flustered. He always seems to study Grizz when he looks at him, like Sam’s dissecting his very soul. It makes Grizz squirm, even though he knows Sam’s only focused because he needs to analyze the nonsense emerging from Grizz’s lips. That’s what it is: nonsense. _Reel it back, self._

Moments pass and Sam doesn’t look like he’s going to pick up the conversation. Grizz leans forward to catch his attention. “I could get you a drink?” _That’s not even in the same ballpark as anything resembling, ‘reel it back’._

“Already had plenty.” Sam raises his empty glass.

“Oh,” Grizz says. He sinks back into his chair. “Yeah, me too.”

Grizz scans the room for something to do, picking out his friends and noting where the girls who danced with him earlier are. Most of them are dancing with a friend group or talking to another guy. Good. He likes to have genuine fun with people, but it all comes crashing down when people he could never like back start to catch feelings for him. Not that he blames himself- or them- but- well, it’s just… not easy. It always makes him feel uncomfortable, his stomach turning when they touch him and look at him and bat their eyes like _that._

Sam swirls the ice in his glass and Grizz goes back to thinking about things from the flip side. Liking beautiful, red-haired and blue-eyed boys who will never, ever, feel the same for him.

“I’ll see you around,” Sam says. He’s standing up, getting ready to leave.

“You’re going already?” Grizz says before he can stop himself. Sam only looks at him at the end of it, but Grizz doesn’t take any steps to spare himself embarrassment. “I’ll- I’ll walk you home. Or, you know, I’ll go home. Too. Because we live in the same place.” _Does that face mean unimpressed?_ Grizz can’t tell. God, he’s being obvious.

“Sure,” Sam says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Grizz tries not to look too eager when he jumps up to follow. 

Bean’s ploy has pretty much worked- people are dancing and smiling again, even if it all seems just a little stilted. They weave through the tables and around the dance floor, Grizz doubling back to where he and the guys had been sitting to pick up his black slacks. He’d changed out of them after making his new galaxy-themed sweatpants, but he wasn’t about to ditch the other pair.

“Hey, man.” Clark turns around just as Grizz brushes by, a drink in his hand and Gwen standing in front of him, gripping his tie. “Where’d you go?”

Sam’s still walking, not even glancing behind him to check that Grizz is following. Grizz tries to smooth his face down, tucking his hair back. “Just… talking to people. I do have other friends, you know.”

Clark laughs. “Oh, sure, sure. Did you see Lukey?” Gwen tugs on Clark’s tie, drawing his attention back to her as she gives a red-lipped smile. 

“I think he left,” Grizz says, his voice easily drowned out by the music. Clark isn’t paying attention anyway, and Grizz feels a flash of jealousy as he leans down to kiss Gwen. It’s so easy for them, so easy to just _exist._ Like they are, together. As much as Grizz is ready to throw away any pretense of straightness for Sam’s sake, he can’t help the undercurrent of fear that something’s going to happen to him.

It’s not that he thinks someone’s going to attempt a hate crime, but the idea of someone even just looking at him with quiet judgement in their eyes makes him want to curl in a ball and die. He was ready to walk away from everyone he’d ever known for a shot at an unapologetic life, where any risks were cut in half. And maybe in many ways, he’s always been honest about himself, judgement be damned, but this feels different.

Probably because this time, the risks extend to someone else. What happens to him, Grizz can shrug off- but if someone ever hurt Sam… Sam.

When Grizz looks back, eyes automatically searching for Sam, the boy is standing against the wall waiting. _Sam Eliot, waiting for_ me. Any internal battle flies out of his mind at the sight of him. Grizz presses back a smile. He snatches his slacks off the back of a chair and dodges a couple hurrying between the tables, catching up to Sam as quickly as possible.

“Problem?” Sam asks, eyes flitting across Grizz’s face and back to Clark.

“No, no- let’s go.” The room feels too hot, the constant light and movement stifling. Sam’s smile is an anchor in the ocean of chaos.

He turns and leads the way, Grizz falling into step beside him as they burst out into the cool night air. The music turns faint as soon as the doors close, plunging them into a whole different world. Shadows run their fingers over the pair as they walk down the long street, swaying as the wind sweeps through the trees. The street extends into the distance until it curves out of sight, the pools of light one final blip on the cement.

Grizz gives himself a moment to breathe, filling his lungs with the clean, crisp air. The night sky above them is filled with stars, more than were ever visible over New Ham before, and his mind supplies him the names of constellation after constellation. It's like a dark sky park at midnight- the same sights and more from when he went camping in seventh grade. If nothing else, this version of Earth must be doing so much better without constant interference.

Sam’s arm brushes against his. “What are you thinking about?”

This time, there’s no use fighting the smile overtaking his face. It’s a losing battle, anyway. Grizz pauses under a streetlight, partly so Sam can see him and partly because the longer it takes them to walk back, the longer he gets to talk to Sam.

“Night falls,” Grizz says. “Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.”

Grizz has been reading a lot. He always does, but more than usual now. It makes him feel settled, at peace for whatever moments he can steal off by himself. There isn’t much time for it, between Guard duties and then the people of the Guard hanging around, but Grizz carves it out somewhere between meals and at night.

“Is that Handmaid’s Tale?” Sam leans back against the pole, shadows over his eyes and hair glowing with the white light.

“Yeah,” Grizz sighs, the breath knocked out of him. Cute, kind, _and_ a reader? “Yeah, Margaret Atwood.”

“Mmm,” Sam hums. “I didn’t like the show.”

“No? I thought it was good.”

There’s something dark and raw in Sam’s eyes. Grizz can see the touch of his soul bared before he even says the words, “Too depressing. Everything about Emily Malek was a bit much for me, I guess.”

“Emily- yeah, Ofglen. Or whatever her name is now,” Grizz says. He scours his mind for a brighter show. “Not gonna lie, I was bawling in half her scenes. Did you ever watch the Magicians? Quentin Coldwater, talk about a bi disaster.”

Sam snorts, an off-guard smile taking over his face. “Yeah, I loved Eliot and Margot.”

“Makes sense,” Grizz says. “They’re like the magical version of you and Becca.”

“Oh, if _only_ we were that fabulous.” Sam’s laugh is as beautiful as the rest of him. Grizz steps farther into the halo of light, fully aware of the fact that he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Who does that make me? Tick?”

“The royal advisor dude?” Sam chuckles, “No, you… you’re Todd.”

_“Todd._ What a fantasy name.”

“Right out of Twilight,” Sam agrees, his eyes gleaming in the light. 

“ _Oh god,”_ Grizz says, and the pair dissolve into laughter.

Time flutters out of reach- Grizz doesn’t know how long they stay there, standing under the streetlight talking about their old lives. It’s the first time Grizz’s been able to recall his past without something inside him hurting. TV shows, books, old teachers and adventures- Grizz tells him about all the dumb shit he’s gotten up to following Clark and Jason’s lead, and Sam tells him about all the equally ridiculous things he’s done with Becca.

“Okay, okay- last December, right? Clark just shows up at my house, looking all mopey. Girlfriend problems, you know how it is-" Sam gives him a flat look. "Don't lie to me, you've seen it happen."

"I'm just glad it was never first hand," Sam says, and though his mouth is one curved line, his eyes are laughing.

Grizz makes a face and waves him off. " _Girlfriend problems-_ so we had Luke and Jason pick us up. We drove out to the middle of the woods- and remember, it’s dead cold outside, nearly Christmas- and somehow, we end up swimming in the river. Clark flops around and nearly drowns, and the four of us are two degrees away from getting hypothermia-”

“Don’t tell me you lost a toe."

“Oh, Clark nearly did,” Grizz says, and laughs at it all. He continues on with the story, Sam's running commentary making everything that little bit better. It keeps Grizz from any hint of grief, too.

It's strange to recall his past. Wild nights when their biggest concerns were the next football game or whether Gwen was going to take Clark back. When Grizz’s biggest concerns were winning a writing competition online or measuring how drunk he’d have to be to make out with Carla again.

“The first time I got drunk,” Sam starts, and Grizz is already trying not to crack up. “Both my parents were home, Campbell was in the room next door-"

"Just to make the stakes clear."

"Duh. I was a daring child. Becca was just supposed to be sleeping over so we could work on a science project, but we were bored little shits, so of course, we had to get up to something.”

Grizz manages to step even closer to Sam as a couple passes them, barely glancing their way as they giggle and kiss. Sam’s very presence is a magnet, constantly drawing him in. “How old were you?”

“Fourteen?”

“Wow,” Grizz mouths. “Are we talking eighth grade?”

“Uh-huh. Becca had a rebellious phase and I might’ve had a _tiny_ streak,” Sam says.

"I can tell- but hey, as long as you didn't have an emo phase, I'm not judging," Grizz says, raising his hands in surrender.

"I think you'd notice if I had," Sam says wryly, and ain't that the truth. “So Becs goes to distract my parents while I went into the basement. And, like I said, I’m fourteen and stupid and I don’t even know what I’m looking for, so I grab the nearest bottle and try to hide it in my shirt. How the hell it worked, I couldn’t tell you now. I got the bottle all the way past my parents and back to my room, only to find out it was straight fucking vodka, which our tiny eighth-grade selves didn’t know how to drink.”

“With a nice glass of apple juice,” Grizz says.

Sam wrinkles his nose. “That’s gross.”

“What? That’s how I do it!”

“That’s because _you’re_ gross. And anyway, we also were deathly afraid of getting caught- or I was. Becca didn’t really give a shit, but I had a golden child reputation to keep.”

“I-” Grizz says. He shakes his head. “I cannot believe you even had one, to begin with.”

“Hey, I am a perfect Christian virgin and the epitome of an honor roll nerd, who also thought that milk was the answer.” Grizz splutters at that, heat rising in his face. It’s not that he expected there to be anyone for Sam to even get with in West Ham, but… his face is burning all over now. _Who also thought that milk was the answer._ His spluttering morphs into a laugh. "So now Becca goes downstairs again to ‘casually’ get us milk, and I decide that we’re less likely to be caught if we sit up on the roof.”

“Ho-ly shit,” Grizz says. “If that was me, I would’ve fallen off.”

“Oh, I’m getting there.” Sam looks so- so… Grizz can’t even begin to describe what he feels. At the start of the night, Sam had been friendly but cautious, drawing back into himself like a turtle sensing danger. Now, he’s more open than Grizz has ever seen him. Or, at least to him and not Becca. The constant traces of a smile on his lips, the laughter erupting easily and often.

It’s hard to concentrate when his heart keeps jumping up into his throat. Grizz is hyper-aware of himself- his clammy hands, the blood rushing in his ears, and the ends of his hair brushing against his neck. He keeps tucking it behind his ears for something to do with his fidgeting hands.

Sam doesn’t seem to mind if Grizz stammers over his words or stares too intently. (Both of which he does often. Suspiciously often.) Sam’s story ends in Becca hanging off the gutter and having to drop onto a car below, and both of them throwing up milk and vodka into the bushes. Grizz laughs until his stomach hurts.

“You know, I think you actually beat me. I didn’t get wasted until I was sixteen,” Grizz tells him. They’ve migrated to a cement wall just behind the lamppost, swinging their legs over the edge. Sam’s shoulder is pressed to his, their hands lined up next to each other where they grip the cement.

“Really? With the guys around?”

“Well, I had a few drinks before,” Grizz concedes. He wonders if he’s a little tipsy now, the alcohol kicking in despite his tolerance, or if this is some kind of emotional high. Just being near Sam makes his head spin. “I was always the responsible one, I guess- but I never even wanted to get drunk until then. Luke and I take turns being the designated driver nowadays.”

Sam nods pensively. “So, why then? Did your sophomore girlfriend dump you?”

“Ha-ha.” Grizz rolls his eyes, hoping it hides the scream inside his head that says _it’s when I first saw you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have seen me hanging around like a hundred other Grizzam fics, because when I love something, I get o b s e s s e d- and also I'm a fast reader, which means I've burned through my supply of stories for this young Fandom, and decided I had to make my own. So here we are, hello. Come on this journey with me.


	2. Or When, Or From Where

Sophmore year. Halfway through and Grizz was doing just fine. He’d long decided on his plan to move across the country for college and stay there, coming out to his parents when he was ready and arriving at his new home ready to be is authentic self. If his parents or old friends had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t matter, and if he was confronted with homophobic people in his new life, he could easily shut them out.

It was a good plan, one that Grizz was even excited for. In a big city, there’d be tons of people like him. Plenty of friends to find who would understand him. It was all fine, until AP History when he spotted Sam. He had such delicate features back then. Sam was all fine bones and grace, the movements of his hands a beautiful dance. Grizz felt clunky and awkward compared to him- too tall, too wide, too big.

That had thrown a wrench in his plans. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sam and his flaming hair, his bright eyes. When he heard his mother gossiping to her friends about Sam being gay, he’d declared all hope of this just being a passing crush to be pointless. That night, he’d gone to a party after another football game and told Luke he’d be the one staying sober instead.

Sam waves a hand in front of his face, and Grizz zones back in.

“War flashbacks?” Sam teases. Grizz shakes his head. He looks at Sam for a long moment, wondering whether or not he should ask a certain question. _Fuck it,_ is his final decision.

“Did you ever um- you ever date someone?” Grizz asks, and holy shit is his heart beating fast.

Sam squints at him. “You know any other gay boys around town?” Grizz notices the moment Sam’s shoulder stops pressing against his, the moment Sam’s hand pulls away.

He knows what Sam’s thinking, and he hates that he does. Grizz knows that fear so well- like he has to draw back his affection in case someone accuses him of being gay, or so that once he comes out no one can be disgusted with him. Saying he must’ve had a crush on them, or that he took some kind of impure enjoyment out of it. It sucked, to sum it up, because Grizz was naturally an affectionate person and that fear haunted him on the daily.

“The internet exists,” Grizz says, a little defensively. Though Sam smiles, he folds his hands in his lap instead. He’d been half-signing along with his words before then, the hand not against Grizz’s fluttering through the air on muscle memory. He likes when Sam signs. Not just because of the language itself, but because Sam always seems more relaxed when he does it.

Sam looks surprised- shit, did he say that out loud? Definitely tipsy. Although, he’s kind of glad he did once Sam raises his hands again, looking a little bashful. Was that a blush?

“I talked to people sometimes,” Sam says finally, his hands moving hesitantly. Once again, Grizz thinks his signs are beautiful, even if he doesn’t know what each one means. “Other deaf people. I had one or two gay friends, but I never kept up with them for long. So no, I never dated anyone.”

“I tried having internet friends,” Grizz confesses, feeling like he owes something in return. “Mostly other fans of a certain book series or something like that- but yeah, never anything lasting either.” Sam pulls a face and signs something Grizz interprets as _nerd._

“What about you? I think I saw you around with girls,” Sam says. Grizz cringes internally.

“No, actually.” Grizz flexes his fingers against the wall, running his nails against the cement. “Never dated anyone.”

“Not even a cheerleader?”

“Don’t stereotype!” The momentary awkwardness passes, and Grizz laughs. "I'll have you know, I have never so much as kissed a cheerleader in my life."

"Oh, you so did," Sam baits. "That girl- the blonde one, she kissed you at halftime like, two years ago?"

"It's not like I asked her to."

Sam gives him a coy look, nudging Grizz's elbow with his. "She was hot."

"Oh my god. She's in college now- she was a senior and I was a sophomore- and how the hell do you remember that?"

"It's not weird, _you_ should be in college and _I'm_ going into senior year." There's no weight behind Sam's words- they mean nothing to him, but everything to Grizz. 

Also, seriously. How did he remember? That's in the top ten- no, top five Most Embarrassing Moments for Grizz. He'd been jogging by with the team to get a swig of water, and she stopped him in front of everyone. Lifted his helmet and laid one on him with no preamble. "But a senior forcing themselves on a sophomore. Not cool."

"Not cool at any age," Sam agrees. And maybe he'd been bracing himself a little for Sam to say he was silly or weak or whatever- but instead, Sam says something perfect yet again. Grizz searches for a way to steer the conversation away from young-hurt-even-more-closeted him, but Sam beats him to it. "So. . .you don't think cheerleaders are hot?"

"Sam. . ."

He shrugs innocently. " _I_ think they're hot."

"You're gay." _And so am I._

"I can't recognize conventional attractiveness?"

"Not when you use those words," Grizz says. "I swear you just like to fluster me."

"Maybe I do," Sam says. His blue, blue, eyes are dark pools under the yellow light. He gets that coy fucking look on his face _again,_ and Grizz wants to kiss it off his lips. The line between normal-Grizz and drunk-Grizz thoughts is blurred.

"I think those uniforms shouldn't be school-mandated."

That sufficiently ruined the moment- not that there _was_ a moment, because _Sam doesn't like me._ "Is _that_ why you won't date them," Sam teases.

"No- no, I-" Grizz gave him a mock-glare. "Lie to my face and say you don't think it's creepy they're _required_ to wear those outfits. Who decided that?"

"Probably some pedo on the school board," Sam answers, chuckling. He gives Grizz a speculative look. "How much did you drink?"

Grizz groans, rocking back and forth and leaning back only to tip too far over the edge of the wall. Sam grabs his arm just as he loses his center of gravity, hauling him back up straight. Grizz's heart might just collapse at this point- give out on him from over-exertion. Sam's hands slide away.

"Too much, apparently," Grizz mutters, promptly realizing that it was probably incoherent to Sam. Was he slurring? Grizz tries out a few words to test it, but it all sounds normal to him. Sam taps his arm, tilting his head endearingly when Grizz looks at him.

"What did you say?" Sam asks. Grizz blinks harshly, wishing he brought water with him. He knows well that he's an affectionate drunk, and that's the last thing he needs right now 

"I _may_ have had some beer with Luke… and then rum and coke with Clark. And the whole group- I even had one with _Helena._ I mean, all she wanted was a bit of watered-down punch, but it was spiked so I count it," Grizz rambles.

Sam gave him an amused look. “Should we go back? I think you need to lay down.”

“I’m fine,” Grizz says, much too quickly. He says it again, slower, and Sam shakes his head. “I’m good, really. It’s better being out here, in the cool air.”

“Whatever you say,” Sam responds. Grizz shuffles a little closer to him on the wall, and the boy looks happy about it all.

With Sam smiling at him, he feels on top of the world. They talk and talk and talk some more until people are walking by in a steady stream, throwing them odd looks as they pass, and Sam suggests they go home again. Grizz wants nothing more than to stay in this moment forever, but even he is starting to get cold.

He knows it’s late, though he doesn’t bother to check the time. There’s something inexplicably beautiful about the world when he doesn’t know the time, when Grizz can get lost in a moment with someone else. It’s exhilarating.

Grizz hops off the wall first, dramatically offering his hand to help Sam off. He’s half surprised when the boy takes it, fingers wrapping around Grizz's wrist after he hops down. Grizz gives him a quizzical look and Sam slings Grizz’s arm over his shoulders.

"You don't want to fall, do you?" Sam says, by way of explanation. Grizz isn't about to complain, even though he knows he's very, very, far from being _that_ drunk. 

They don’t talk much on the walk back, the inconsistency of dipping in and out of the light making it difficult, but the silence feels peaceful. Grizz enjoys every second, dwelling in it and letting contentedness swell in his chest freely. He looks at the stars, the clouds, the trees. Grass shooting up from cracks in the cement and pools of light on the ground, dark houses and stumbling, smiling people.

He’s the luckiest guy in the world. For the peaceful walk and all the little wonders of the world- the most prominent one being Sam Eliot. The boy he’s been crushing on for years, now walking by his side, Grizz's arm around his firm shoulders.

It does get awkward again once they reach home. Grizz can’t see anyone moving around, but all the lights are on. He tries to think of something to say as they walk up to the porch, and Sam looks like he’s trying to do the same.

“I had fun.” It’s Sam that speaks first. He politely ducks out from under Grizz's arm, and Grizz immediately misses the warm pressure against his side. Sam pauses with his hand on the front door, eyes searching Grizz’s face. “Thank you.”

Grizz blinks in surprise. Sam’s a foot away from him, a little step forwards and he could lean down and kiss him. “Thank me? For what?”

“Rescuing my night,” Sam says. “I was kind of down after Becca left.”

“Oh, sorry- or not, sorry- but…” What are words? Grizz settles on, “I had a good time, too.”

Sam nods once and takes a breath, opening the door. Grizz thinks that if only he’d had the guts to ask Sam to prom, and Sam had said yes, and they’d gone through all these motions- maybe, _maybe_ he’d have had the guts to ask Sam for a goodnight kiss too. That’s what that moment felt like, anyway. A scene out of a movie where the unlikely couple stands on the front porch, the girl’s parents waiting just inside the door, and the boy swoops down for a peck on the lips. Delusions, delusions.

They go inside, back to silence. Sam whispers a goodnight and goes upstairs while Grizz ducks into the kitchen for a bottle of water. As the Pressmans’ cousin, Sam had first dibs on a room, sharing it with Becca while Gordie sleeps with Cassandra and Will alternates between the other couch and crashing in Allie’s room. Luke’s here some nights too, though his usual place is with Helena. Bean has a little room tucked into a corner of the house by herself, and the last room stands empty. Nobody wants to take it, nobody wants to sleep where someone's missing parents used to be. It was offered to Grizz- the largest room, and one with its own little bathroom, but he'd rather the couch over guilt weighing on him every night.

Grizz finds a collection of bottles stuffed in the back of the fridge and steals one. He leans against the counter and chugs the whole thing, already feeling his feet steady a bit. The walk back gave him some time for the effects to wear off, and Grizz attributes the late-acting tipsiness even appearing to a mix of alcohol and his freshly resurging emotions.

Grizz goes to the sink and splashes water on his face, instantly more alert. He wipes his face with his sleeve and refills the bottle from the tap before heading to the living room. One of the lamps is already lit, though no one's around.

It takes Grizz several long moments to notice that the lump of brown blanket on his couch is Allie. He sees a lock of her curly hair hanging over the edge of the cushion before anything else. The house is dead silent around them besides the occasional patter of feet upstairs, and Allie’s just laying here alone. Grizz wonders how she even got back before them- she must’ve walked by without him noticing.

“You’re on my bed,” Grizz says lightly. If she’s already asleep, he’d leave her alone. Grizz sets his water on the coffee table and perches on the very edge of the couch, gently peeling back the blanket from her face.

“What,” Allie groans. She squeezes her eyes shut even tighter, wrestling a hand out of the tangle of blankets to sling over her face.

“You okay?” Allie looks paler than usual and her brow is permanently furrowed. She waves a dismissive hand.

“M’fine,” she mutters. She drops her hand, letting it flop off the couch. Allie’s smeared a bit of mascara across her cheek, and there are makeup stains on the blanket. 

Grizz chews his lip, scanning the empty room and glancing at the door. “What time did you get back?”

Allie’s eyes crack open. She squints up at him in what would almost be a glare if she didn’t look so exhausted. “Sorry m’in your spot. I’m going.” She flings the blankets off and swings her legs off the couch, revealing that she’s still in her full prom outfit. As soon as Grizz goes to ask another question, Allie shoots to her feet. “Tell Cassandra I went to bed.”

“Are you-” She leaves in a huff without waiting for Grizz’s response.

Grizz sits there for a moment, dumbfounded and clueless about what to do, before following her upstairs. He pauses outside Sam’s door for a second, hearing a low murmur of sound.

“… I’m sorry, Sam- I just feel so strung up. Like I’m going out of my mind…” Becca’s voice floats out from under the door. Grizz walks on, feeling like an intruder on a personal moment. At least it sounds like the two of them are making up. 

Grizz goes to the end of the hall and gently raps on the door. “Allie?” He can hear floorboards creaking as she moves around. “Allie, open up.”

“Door’s unlocked,” Allie mutters, after a long beat of silence. Grizz cracks it open, peering inside to see her fiddling with the sleeve of her pajamas, already changed. She’s peeling open a package of makeup wipes, staring down at them intently. “I’m fine, you know. It’s not me that’s the problem.”

“Then who is?” Grizz steps inside, quietly closing the door behind him. Allie shrugs.

“Everyone. They need to get out of my face.”

“Are you sure-”

“Thank you, Grizz,” she says dismissively. She scrubs her face viciously, making the mascara an even bigger streak across her cheek. Grizz doesn’t leave. He waits for a moment, watching Allie’s resolve crack and crumble. “Teenage drama. Sibling fights. Whatever.”

“Anything I can do?”

Allie bounces on the edge of her bed and sighs, throwing the wipe onto the nightstand. “I maybe kinda need a hug.”

She burrows her face into his chest as soon as he hugs her, and Grizz thinks that she’s never felt smaller than now. Like a child in his arms, small and fragile. Allie wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes, and they sit there for a long minute, basking in the silence. He lets her be the one to pull back first, quickly swiping a tear from her eye.

“Thank you,” Allie says, already looking a little better. She musters a little smile. “Now, you need to go to bed. It’s like one in the morning.”

“One thirty-two,” Grizz reads off her clock. Allie shooes him out. Grizz laughs a bit and tries to go back to that happy state he was in only minutes before. He goes downstairs, mind back onto Sam as he passes their door. 

Holy fucking shit, he’s a goner. He feels a gaping loneliness, and he’s suddenly colder than he was outside. Grizz flops back onto the couch. Would it be weird to knock on Sam’s door? That was weird, right? Okay, that’s weird...it’s nighttime and they don’t know each other _that_ well. Plus, Becca splits the room with Sam and they’re probably still talking. And Sam’s probably tired- would texting him be weird? Then he could always decide not to answer and go to sleep, or he might not notice.

Grizz sighs, glancing at his phone. It sits innocently on the coffee table, calling his name like a Siren. He was itching to talk to Sam more- and it’d be so easy. There were several big group chats- ones for each committee, people in work shifts together, as well as one Cassandra had made to send out announcements and sort things out around town. If he went back through the texts, he could probably find something Sam sent.

In conclusion, Grizz was a gay disaster. Ugh.

He forces himself to at least get ready for bed first, brushing his teeth and changing into some comfortable clothes before dropping on the couch and wrapping himself up in blankets. Grizz tries to distract himself by texting the Guard, but after a long minute, no one replies. _Probably all off getting laid._ The house is still silent around him, creating a private bubble of existence around Grizz. Grizz caved.

He promised himself he wouldn’t get too obsessed and scrolls back only as far as that afternoon, picking a random spot to start.

**TOWN BUSINESS**

**Cassandra.** _Alright, awesome guys!! Is everyone coming to prom?_

**Will LC.** _yup, i’ll be covering food first tho_

**Me.** _Gwen and I will be there ahead of time. The guys are showing up too._

**Luke.** _sry but Clark wants to know if there’s alcohol_

**Cassandra.** _Thank you so much! Kelly will check in with you in a couple hours._

**Cassandra.** _*both of you_

**Me.** _Yeah man, we’ll have a fully stocked bar_ _._

**(Unknown Number).** _ig, I have a dress but it’s up to sam_

**(Unknown Number).** _I TOLD YOU, WE. ARE. GOING._

**Luke.** _cool, Clark’s happy_

**Cassandra.** _No stress! I gotta go- see you all tonight!_

**(Unknown Number).** _someone kill sam for me, i can’t take this. allie where r u_

**Allie.** _can u not spam myphone just text privately thanks_

Grizz pauses, scanning back through the texts. The person referring to Sam was most likely to be Becca...which made the other number Sam’s. He saves both numbers to his contacts and goes to Sam’s, immediately locking up. Assuming this even is Sam, what the hell does he say?

‘U up?’- god, no, that’s stupid. ‘Are you up?’- no. ‘Wassup’- definitely not. ‘Hey’- alright, but where would the conversation go from there? Grizz scrubs a hand through his hair and bites his lip, bonking his forehead with his phone.

**Me.** _Did you see Clark and Jason do that dance, earlier? They’ve been choreographing it all week_

And the text sends. That’s it. That’s it- it’s out there. Holy shit, what is he _doing._

**Me.** _This is Sam, right?_

Grizz waits anxiously for a response, counting every long second. Another moment passes. Another and another and another, until a full minute’s gone by- then two. Then three. Grizz’s eyes start to water from staring at the screen so intently. He shifts higher up to put his head on the armrest, laying on his side and just settling in when his screen lights up again. Grizz’s heart pounds in his ears.

**Sam.** _oh god i thought they’d never stop_

**Sam.** _yup u got me- i’m guessing this is grizz?_

**Sam.** _did you teach them those moves?_

Sam. Answered. He answered- and pshh, what was three minutes? That was so simple and casual- two things Grizz is very bad at being when it comes to someone he likes. Sam answered and he was joking around with Grizz. Now what?

**Me.** _Just a few. My robot is on point._

Grizz waits to send it, not wanting to seem over-eager. Okay, is it also weird to use way more punctuation and capitalization than someone else? Should he put less effort in?

**Me.** _Who else ;)_

**Sam.** _you have to teach me!! all bec’s moves involve way more hair than i have. maybe you can use them instead_

**Me.** _Hit me up in three years, maybe it’ll be down my back by then._

**Me.** _I’m happy to teach you tap anytime._

Holy shit, why did he say that. And did he really say ‘Hit me up’- oh god, oh god, oh god.

**Sam.** _i’ve got some breakdance skills. lets trade_

**Me.** _The next dance- if Becca doesn’t want to go, you know who to call_

**Sam.** _. . .my bed and a tub of ice cream?_

**Sam.** _talk to me tmrw and i’ll play you my fav song, then you can show off_

Witty _and_ smooth. So fucking perfect- it really isn’t fair. Sam is so far out of his league that the bar must be in space. High up, where Grizz can never reach. And yet, Sam wants to talk to him again. Tomorrow. He wants to play a song and- wait, did he just invite Grizz to dance? Is this some sort of make-up for earlier? 

**Me.** _Gladly. I do want to see your moves too- do I smell a challenge?_

**Sam.** _a challenge? you have some sort of title?_

**Me.** _Best dancer in Ohio._

**Sam.** _we don’t live in Ohio._

**Me.** _When did that start to matter?_

**Me.** _You’re just jealous of my fame. It’s ok, your secret’s safe with me._

**Sam.** _are you a witch? Soothsayer? prophet? it’s like u see into my soul._

_“Grizz!”_ His head snaps up. He’d been so absorbed in talking to Sam- he didn’t even realize he was smiling until it falls off his face. Someone’s pounding on the front door. “Grizz!”

They must’ve seen him through the window- _ding-dong! Ding-dong!_ They ring the doorbell over and over, still shouting his name. He thinks it’s Bean. Her voice is hoarse and cracking. Grizz throws his phone onto the couch and jumps up to answer the door.

His heart is pounding by the time he opens it. “What?”

Bean’s eyes are blown wide with terror. She shakes her head, mouth moving without sound, then shoves past him into the house. Grizz shuts the door and tries to process what she’s saying, her words spilling over each other. “I was- I left my phone at the booth, and I was just going back to get it and- and-”

“What. Happened.” Grizz catches her by the arm, stilling her frantic pace. This time, when she looks up at him he sees the tears glinting on her cheeks.

“It’s Cassandra,” Bean says. Grizz goes to get the others, and from then on, it’s chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEASON TWO. IS. OFFICIAL. I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING


	3. I Love You Simply

It hurts to do this again.

Cassandra’s body feels infinitely heavier, and Grizz can’t get his hands to stop fucking shaking, even an hour later. Some people have gone off to work, some are skipping shifts, but as for Grizz, he’s sitting in the church again. He looks up at the altar, the purple swoops of fabric, the podium and the crosses adorning it. All the things that never helped them.

Not that he ever believed, because for obvious reasons, religion and Grizz didn’t agree, but it was always a constant presence in his life. Vaguely religious parents combined with the fact that West Ham had been a small town full of affluent white people, definitely your typical Christian setting. And then there was Helena, the representative of the modern child of god. The better parts of the Bible filtered through progressive cultural values.

“You alright?” Helena settles onto the bench next to him. He’s grateful for her, really.

“Fine,” Grizz says. “Did Allie go home?”

“Said she had a migraine.” Grizz nods and Helena fiddles with the cross around her neck, staring up at the ceiling. “It doesn’t feel real, does it?”

Grizz looks at her- Helena’s face is carefully blank, but her eyes have a glint to them, like she’s holding back a single tear. “No. I feel like she should still be out there. Barely twenty minutes before I got the news, I was looking at her texts- I just- and Emily dying, too.” The memories push to the front of his mind. Emily’s body spasming on the ground, Bean reaching for her with shaking hands, Luke desperately trying to restore her heartbeat, her breath. 

_“Mouth is tingling,”_ she’d said. _“My mouth is tingling.”_ And right then, he’d known it was the end. Grizz thought he would feel it right away, grief hitting him like a bullet train, but instead, it had set in slowly. Icy claws reaching up around his heart, squeezing all the life and warmth out of him. Pulling down and down into some black hole beneath his feet.

“What do the circles of hell look like?” Grizz wonders. “If we fall any further, will we start to freeze?”

“God does everything for a reason,” Helena whispers, a nearly inaudible wisp of sound. Grizz just shakes his head.

“You should call a meeting, get people organized again.”

Helena straightens up slowly. “What?”

“People aren’t going to react well,” Grizz says. “They’re not- _I’m_ not. We need to wake up. You need to wake them up and tell them that this is it. This is our life, our world, before someone does something stupid. Before we go back to square one.”

“I think you need to talk to Allie about that,” Helena says.

“I think we need to leave her alone for now.” Helena stares at him and Grizz stares back. They look out at the altar again. “It’s just some big fucking nightmare. . .”

When the sun starts to set and Grizz finally leaves, he finds Sam sitting on the back stoop. He’s staring out at a circle of people around Cassandra’s grave, clasping hands and stuck in various levels of grief. Some numb, some crying. Grizz closes his eyes and thinks that even if they get home, it’ll never be the same again.

Grizz wants to sit beside him, drop his head on Sam’s shoulder and let go of everything. Everything he’s been keeping bottled up, but he can’t. And it's such a far cry from the day before when he'd been messing around with the guys and blushing ridiculously as he talked to his crush. Oh, how fast things have changed.

There’s so much going on, so much to worry about, and Grizz knows himself. If he gets any closer to Sam, it’ll be the end of the line for him. How can he function when all he can think about is Sam? How can he clear his head, make the right decisions, do what needs to be done? How can he go a day without feeling fucking terrified that something’s going to happen to Sam?

Grizz opens his eyes, granting himself one last longing look at the boy. The lean line of his shoulders, his autumn hair. He takes one last look, and leaves the church, walking right by Sam and away. He doesn't glance back.

~~~

The next time Grizz sees him, or at least for more than a passing glance, a short moment, Sam and Becca have gathered all of Cassandra’s ‘inner circle’. The people that she trusted, the people living in her home, the people she looked at first when something terrible happened just to check on. The people in her group chat that Grizz can’t stop going back to, flipping through all the things Cassandra said- all about managing the town, about protecting people and making them happy. Little compliments and encouragements.

Who the fuck would do this? Take someone full of so much light and love for the world, with a drive to help people and protect them, and destroy them. Even before their families disappeared, Cassandra had always been a beacon of light and idealism. She had ideas about society, about helping the poor and the weak and making things better for everyone. She was always going out of town for the weekend, driving to some big city for marches and protests. 

When Sam had come out, Cassandra had argued relentlessly with the school board for the prom policy to allow same-sex dates, stop banning several LGBT books in the library, and open their own GSA chapter. The results were varied- there weren’t enough out kids in West Ham for the GSA (meaning, there was only Sam), and though the books were finally allowed, the school didn’t buy them. However, Cassandra had made one major success.

Even though Grizz was still a nervous wreck of a football player when it came to his sexuality, he was always comforted by the fact that if he ever worked up the courage to ask Sam to prom, he could do it. It felt satisfying in a weird way- like a victory, the same way it’d felt the summer before Freshman year, when marriage equality had passed. Grizz had held that victory, the knowledge that he could now marry whoever he wanted, tight to his chest all through high school. It had become part of his dreams- go off to college, start a new life, _get married._

West Ham might’ve been far behind when it came to progressiveness, but Cassandra always fought to catch them up to the modern age. She had always fought to protect people, to love people- all people. To sum it up, Cassandra had been a beaming star in their town, destined for great things. And now, she was dead.

Who the fuck would do this? Maybe Sam had an answer for them.

Despite his hesitance, Grizz had learned a lot about Sam after prom. He talked a lot, for one, if you were so inclined to listen, and Grizz was absolutely thrilled by the fact that Sam had felt comfortable enough to open up to him. Ramble about random things and go on tangents about classic authors Sam believed were actually terrible. In comparison, as he shuffled into the sitting room and perched stiffly on the couch, he was dead silent.

Grizz takes one of the seats across the room and Becca crouches in front of Sam, gesturing for everyone to be quiet. “Ready?” Becca asks him, and Sam nods. Sitting beside him, Bean touches Sam’s arm, nodding at him reassuringly. “Okay. Okay, guys, Sam… Sam has something to tell you. Allie, are you-”

“I’m listening,” she says quietly. Allie’s been hovering in the hall, and now she finally steps into the doorway. She’s been floating around the house of late, like a ghost looking over them all, going through the motions.

Sam raises his hands, eyes constantly flickering from Becca to the floor, then to each of them. “There’s a reason why we never had a dog growing up. We had a bird one time, when I was little,” Becca translates, and Grizz already knows that this is going to be a bad story. “It was yellow and green. His name was Oliver.”

“It vanished from its cage one day, and I went to see if it got outside somehow, because the window was open. I saw Campbell playing with it. And he cut its wings off. Fully off. And was watching it try to walk away. Try to fly, with its bloody stumps.” Gordie glances back at him as if searching for support. Sharing a horror with someone else is a strange comfort, but Grizz can’t look away. Can’t look away from Sam’s quivering lip and the tears making silvery streaks down his face.

And Becca just keeps going. “It kept losing its balance and falling over. My parents tried to hide the truth from people. Pretending that he was just a difficult kid. Like a normal version of a problem child, anti-social and moody, but Campbell is not a normal version of anything. They had him tested. He’s a psychopath.”

"Fuck,” Grizz says, his voice barely-there. No other words come to mind. He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes as they seem to do so easily these days. It feels like he’s always crying- like every week, something fucking terrible happens and he only manages to feel better for one day or two just so when the next tragedy occurs, he has somewhere to come crashing down from.

The concern he’d felt at how quiet Sam was being was just a little prick of pain compared to how torn Grizz feels now. Looking at Sam always tugs at Grizz’s heartstrings, a satisfying pain, but now he’s reaching into Grizz’s chest and ripping it all out. Tearing everything to shreds and mashing the pieces into the carpet. His heart, his lungs, his ribcage, grinding bone to a fine powder. 

“You have to understand, he doesn’t think like we do, feel like we do,” Sam says, his voice hoarse and low, and Grizz aches to wipe the tears from his face. Campbell’s a fucking psychopath, and Grizz can’t muster up the energy to be surprised. He just stares at Sam and tries to imagine what the boy’s been through, all the things Campbell’s done and said to him. “He has no guilt, no empathy. He can mimic that stuff, but he can’t actually feel it.”

“You’re saying he killed Cassandra?” Will asks. Hearing another voice is almost jarring.

“I don’t know,” Sam says, but Grizz believes it. “I just know he’s a monster, and we’re locked up in a room with him.” Will looks back to Allie and Grizz sees the tears down her face before she turns, stalking away down the hall.

To say that Sam needs saving would be condescending, but Grizz wishes he could do something. Punch Campbell, maybe, not that it would make a damn bit of difference. He would still be out there, taking it out on someone, giving someone else double whatever Grizz gave him. Because that was how monsters reacted when hurt- they passed it off. And Sam had been getting every bit of Campbell’s frustration, embarrassment, and anger his whole life.

Yet the boy manages to be kind- manages to laugh like nobody had ever hurt him, manages to look people in the eye and stare into their soul and love everything he saw. He was a beacon of light, too, and Grizz had long learned that a place like this made stars drop like flies.

“I’m sorry,” Grizz says, but Becca doesn’t hear him and Sam isn’t looking. He mouths it to himself, “I’m so sorry.”

“What do we do?” Gordie says, his voice piercing the silence. This time, when he looks to Grizz, Grizz stares back. Even though he doesn’t know what to say, even though he doesn’t have any answers, even though he feels like he’s drowning.

“I’m gonna check on Allie,” Grizz says. Gordie purses his lips and Grizz can’t leave the room fast enough. The weight of Sam’s gaze threatens to drag him over, but Grizz walks on and doesn’t look back.

~~~

“I don’t know what to do with this,” Allie confesses. She was wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon, sitting on the floor with her back against the bed. Grizz sinks down onto the floor across from her, close enough that their knees brush. Now, it’s been days since Sam and Becca pulled them together in the sitting room to tell them about Campbell. Now, Dewey’s accused Campbell of being his accomplice.

“You heard what Sam said,” Grizz whispers. “Campbell’s… a psychopath. He helped kill Cassandra.”

“On whose word? _Dewey’s?_ I can’t just keep him locked up for that.”

“You can and you should.” His voice still doesn’t rise above a low whisper- talking about Campbell and Sam feels forbidden. Even though Campbell’s all the way downstairs and Sam can’t hear, Grizz feels like he’s shouting out their secrets with every word. Like they’ll hear him and judge him and some demon will come to smite him for daring to talk about it. “You already arrested him, you can’t take that back.”

“But I can do- I can do _something._ I want to do things right, start this town right. What I do becomes history, and this town post-disappearance or apocalypse or whatever, has a very short history,” Allie says, moving her arms like she’s gesturing from under the blanket. She drops her head against the bed and groans. “I just- what. What do I do.”

“Whatever you think is right.”

“Well, _I don’t know what that is._ What do I think?”

Allie stares at the ceiling and Grizz tries to decide for himself. He weighs the pros and cons; cons being that the thought of executing someone their age, or anyone at all, makes him sick to his stomach, and pros being that he would do almost anything to protect Sam. And this would protect Sam, protect everyone in the town, from every being hurt by Campbell again. Or terrorized, as he was clearly an expert in that field too.

“Punishing Campbell sends a message,” Grizz says slowly, because his stomach is still turning at the thought of shooting Dewey. “Hurting each other is unacceptable-”

“But that would be hurting someone,” Allie says. “That would be murder.”

“I bet you Campbell has enough counts of assault and abuse to send him to jail in the real world.”

“But he wasn’t in jail, was he? The system let him go.”

“That doesn’t mean they should have.” The argument solidifies in his head- or at least pulls together into a vague misty shape. “The system in the real world was messed up, not just the police and the courts, but everything. Cassandra wanted us to be better, she put the tools and the power in our hands to make our society better. That’s what you need to protect.”

Allie finally drags her head up, locking eyes with Grizz. He holds her gaze as steadily as he can. “She should be here. She’d be doing a hell of a lot better at dealing with this.”

“You’re doing fine,” Grizz says, but the time is ticking down and the town is waiting on Allie’s decision. They both know it, so he doesn’t push the point. “Maybe that’s why we’re here. To be an example for humanity- that we can move forward, that we can make our reparations and be better, not just in word, but in practice.”

“I’m not the right person.” Allie’s voice is cracking, and Grizz leans up to swipe a tear from her cheek. “Stop it- I’m not.”

“The glory of justice and the majesty of law are created not just by the Constitution - nor by the courts - nor by the officers of the law - nor by the lawyers - but by the men and women who constitute our society - who are the protectors of the law as they are themselves protected by the law,” Grizz recites, because he’s never been good with words. Everyone seems to think he is, but really every ‘profound’ thing he’s ever said was based on the words of someone before him. Some quote, some book he read, something he heard. Still, his stories give him peace, and he hopes they’ll help Allie too.

“We don’t have the Constitution,” Allie says. “Maybe we should.”

“That’s not the point,” Grizz says, but what is the point? “Laws and courts and police and everything, they exist because we make them. Because all of us, every member of society, collectively agree to follow them, agree to let them rule us. There are always dissenters, but overall people decide that they are going to contribute to society. Keep the world turning. So if you decide, and I decide, and we get a bunch of other people to decide to do better, it can happen.”

“Cassandra got them to. That day in the church. Had everybody raising their hands for her plans, her rules. She inspired them. I don’t inspire anyone.”

“You inspire me.” Allie gives a watery, disbelieving, laugh. “What? You do. You’re a fucking fighter, Allie. Always have been. _You_ inspire me, and so far, you’ve been inspiring this town. Don’t let that go.”

“What would be letting it go? What would be holding onto it? I’m not going to sit them down and ask them to cast their votes again…” Allie trails off, blinking hard and staring at a point on Grizz’s hoodie. He can practically see her mind working, turning it over. All the possibilities, all the answers, everything. Grizz doesn’t answer for a long moment, because he knows she’s starting to form her own decisions.

“Just keep ruling,” Grizz says. “Stick to what Cassandra laid out for us, and people will see that they need to decide. Whether to get on board or let everything crash and burn.”

“I don’t know how to keep doing that- people want me to lock up Campbell,” Allie says. She curls tighter into herself, wraps the blanket higher over her head, like it’s a barrier against the world. “Want me to do...whatever with him, I don’t know, but you said it yourself, we can’t start a jail.”

“Don’t worry about them.” Inside, Grizz is thinking, _stop Campbell, stop Campbell, stop Campbell, don’t let him hurt Sam._ But another part of him thinks that it takes a lot to deserve to die, and maybe Campbell hasn’t crossed that line yet, maybe… maybe a million things, but none of it matters, because Allie’s in charge and not him. “Do whatever you think is right.”

Six months ago, if someone told him he’d be sitting on Allie’s bedroom floor, his family missing, the town gaping and nearly empty, his friends now in charge of keeping the peace, living _Lord of the Flies_ and debating the fate of someone’s life... Grizz would’ve said they were batshit crazy. But here he was. And here Allie was. And here Campbell was downstairs chained to a fucking heater, awaiting their judgement. What has the world come to?


	4. Without Problems Or Pride

“Okay, but like- think about it,” Clark says. Grizz quirks an eyebrow at that. They shuffle down the street, Clark kicking a can around every time he reaches it and Grizz staring up at the sky. The others trail just behind, doing their jobs a little better but still engaged in the debate Clark’s sparked. It’s bright outside, still mid-August and warm. It feels like a piece of summer from their old lives- Clark, Jason, Luke, and him all hanging around doing nothing useful. Walking through town or flopping down on the turf at the football field.

Grizz has his jacket slung over his shoulder, feeling a little like a jock from an old movie as they move in a pack like a cliche clique. There’s a new member among them. Shoe, who’d been inducted into the Guard along with a few other members of the football team, though the ‘core four’ were the only ones with separate job rotations for it. He’d been a junior and new to the team that year, only joining halfway through the season. Well, Shoe’d be a senior now. School would’ve been starting up in a few weeks.

Grizz wonders if he’d already be at his dorm, unpacking his boxes and meeting his roommate, perhaps the first of a new set of friends. Miles away from West Ham. Miles away and settling into his new life. Would he have bought a rainbow flag off the internet like he planned? Would he be, right in this moment, leaning over a box and unfurling it, colours bold against the room, to hang proudly on the wall?

“Everyone around here needs to chill, right?” Clark says, interrupting Grizz’s thoughts. He’s almost grateful for it, except that it only makes him consider the possibilities even more. Is some other Grizz in an alternate dimension pushing these friends out of his life forever? “Everyone needs to unwind. If we could get some weed, think about the kind of market you’d have.”

Grizz laughs, looking at the dopey look on Clark’s face. He’s talking like he’s high already, although it might just be his natural personality. “So you have an established market,” Grizz concedes, “But where the fuck are you gonna get all that weed to even sell?”

“Confiscate it,” Shoe pipes up. “We’re the Guard, if we find it, we can take it.”

“There’s an idea!” Clark pounded Shoe on the back, giving everyone an expectant look. “Ey? Come on, I’d let you all in on the profits. Not if you don’t help me, though- you gotta pull your weight.”

Grizz shook his head, smiling. “What if you don’t find any?”

“We’ll grow it.”

“You’ll grow it from dried packs of dead leaves? Or you’ll grow it from nothing.”

“Fuck,” Clark says. He scratches his head, stumbling around the corner, and Grizz catches Luke’s eye. He was trying to actually patrol and look out for trouble as they were assigned, but Grizz could see he was holding back laughter.

“I don’t think Clark needs any more weed, he’s acting high enough,” Grizz says lowly, and Luke finally snorts.

“I mean, he’s right about the market,” Luke says. “These schedules are stressing me out.”

Grizz nudged his arm as they fell into step together. “You just miss parties.”

“I never said I didn’t,” Luke says, nudging Grizz back. “I miss the big house parties after football games- especially after a victory.” Grizz remembers West Ham nearly a year ago now, during the party after their St. Anselm's game. Standing on the roof of Luke’s house over the pool, the music vibrating in his chest, alcohol buzzing in his head, and the electricity of the party thrumming through his veins. Overlooking the pool, feeling his heart beat harder but taking one look at his team beside him and being ready to jump off a thousand buildings with them.

They turn another corner, and Grizz recognizes the path as the route he took every morning from the Pressmans’ house to the school. “You could still try throwing a party. I don’t know how many people would come, but you can try.”

“Hey, all I need is the Guard and I’m set,” Luke says, right before Grizz glances behind them to try and check the street and his heart slams to a stop. Becca and Sam are walking up the sidewalk towards the school, signing back and forth animatedly. It’s been two months since prom, since Cassandra’s death, and all the chaos had kind of set the reset button on any possible friendship with Sam.

It wasn’t that Grizz avoided Sam, and definitely not that Sam avoided him as he always seemed to be around, but it was as if they’d never spoken. Like prom night and all the horrible things that followed had never happened, and they were just two vague acquaintances. People who knew each other from around, the same way they knew everyone else. Grizz was both relieved and disappointed.

“Hey, Becca,” Grizz says when the pair comes up being them, Luke and him shuffling after the rest of the Guard at a much slower pace. “Sam.” He’s dressed in a plain t-shirt and shorts, his skin darkening a bit from milky-pale as the summer goes on. Not that Grizz has been observing him of course, he just… happened to notice. Sam nods to Grizz in greeting, looking between him and Becca expectantly.

Becca flashes an apologetic smile. “Sorry, we were just going to dinner duty,” Becca says. “Is there a problem?”

“No!” Grizz says immediately, realizing that she probably thinks he’s stopping them on Guard business. “No. Um, you’re good.” He awkwardly steps out of their way, and the two immediately start signing again, weaving through the others and walking away.

“What was that?” Luke asks. Grizz’s eyes snap back to where the rest of the Guard were still standing, Clark and Jason messing around with Shoe by the bushes off the sidewalk, and Luke staring right at him, eyebrows raised pointedly.

“Fuck off,” Grizz says, and Luke just laughs.

“Hey, Grizz.” Clark untangles himself from the tussle to wave him over. “So you like farming right, bro? Gardening and shit?”

Grizz chuckles, approaching with Luke, and the group starts to migrate towards the school again. “Uh-huh.”

“So what is better than a bunch of useless flowers?” Clark asks, and Jason returns, Shoe in a headlock under his arm. "What’s better, huh? How about this- a weed garden.”

“I’ve seen Grizz’s garden,” Luke says. “He’s already got enough weeds as-is.”

Grizz gapes at him. “Excuse me for not having the time, those weeds grow faster than a pack of gremlins.” Luke laughs with him, and even Shoe, which instantly makes Grizz like him better, but Clark and Jason just give him clueless looks. “Nevermind. Weed garden, you’ve said this already.”

Jason shoves Shoe jokingly, sending him stumbling away down the sidewalk, and raises his hand. “This time we have the answer- I heard that rich kid, Vance, had a secret garden in his grandparents’ backyard. They had one of those sheds with the stairs and the big basement, they never went down there, so Vance grew his own little garden. We could raid that shit man- that kid was fifteen, he’s not around. You can grow it instead.”

“But what are you going to sell it for?” Grizz asks. “Money doesn’t matter. Are we talking food rations?”

“Anything you want,” Clark says.

Grizz looks from face to face, Clark and Jason leaning in intently to hear his answer, Luke rolling his eyes, and Shoe looking generally confused. “Whatever.” The pair see it for the concession it is and cheer. “Marijuana plants are actually pretty useful, you know. And great for the environment.”

“Yeah, yeah, they like, produce a lot of oxygen,” Luke says.

“A win-win,” Clark says approvingly. They pass by a streetlight with a low stone wall behind it, and Grizz thinks he recognizes the place. “Hey, it’s August.”

Grizz snorts, shaking his head and looking back to Clark. “We know.”

“No, man, it’s August. We’d be doing summer football practice right now. That’s trippy,” Clark says. So much for the few minutes of peace where Grizz wasn’t thinking about everything they’d lost.

“Not anymore,” Luke says. “I mean, no matter what, not anymore. We would’ve been in college.” Grizz misses home. Misses the real world so much it hurts.

Clark frowns, saying, “I would’ve been here, I changed my mind about college. I was gonna work for my dad instead, stay in town for a few years. But all of you were leaving me.”

“That’s what happens when you live in a small town.” Grizz can’t look him in the eye. “You either stay here in the same cycles your whole life, or you move out. A lot of people move out.”

“Were you gonna leave me, man?” Clark asks Jason, and the two launch into a debate about colleges. Luke’s face goes carefully blank as he stares at Grizz, bumping their shoulders together. He doesn’t want to look at Luke. Grizz already knows what he’s thinking.

“Do you remember prom?” Luke starts. “Not- you know, all the bad stuff, but I mean. Before. When the four of us were drinking-”

“I didn’t have that much. I remember.”

“Right,” Luke says. They walk on for a few precious moments of silence. Around them, the town is silent and still, Becca and Sam already having disappeared from ahead of them. The smattering of trees around them, carefully spaced and planted between the lampposts, stand unmoving. Like Grizz is standing in a frozen moment, a photograph. “You said you never planned on seeing any of us again.”

And just like that, things launch into motion as Luke’s voice breaks the trance. A breeze sweeps through the trees, Clark and Jason’s voices float down, turned back up to full volume. “I was drunk,” Grizz says, a lousy excuse.

“That just means you don’t hold back so much,” Luke counters. “And you’re usually… I don’t know, Grizz. I don’t know what to tell you. I always feel like you’re holding back so much, and if that’s how you feel you have to act around us, then I guess that’s fair. Wanting to get away, that’s fair.”  
Grizz opens his mouth, his instinct to deny it, but it’s true. He always presses down everything from his sexuality to what he wants to talk about- literature and philosophy, his favorite characters and stories that touched him. He still shares his quotes and thoughts, Grizz is grateful that the Guard tries to listen, but they’re never able to really talk about it. That’s why he has two sets of friends, really. One for the brasher side of him that does honestly fit in as a jock, and one for the other side of him that loves gardening and books and boys and tea.

“I’m not making anything up.” That’s Grizz’s answer. “When I’m around you guys, I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not. Everything I say and do, well, it’s stuff that I’m doing, because I come up with it and I mean it. I never pretend, I’m just-”

“Not showing us everything,” Luke says, and gives him an understanding smile. “Like I said, that’s fair. I’d hope that you’d at least call Helena and I every once in a while…”

“I would have,” Grizz assures him. “I’d even visit West Ham for you. Come back for summer, and Christmas even after I graduated. I would’ve come by.”

“I believe you.” Clark and Jason go back to talking about the weed garden as Shoe tries to look at a map of the town on his phone. Trying to find Vance’s house? Luke lets out a little laugh and grins at Grizz. “I’m not surprised, we all knew we were going to go our separate ways eventually. I was leaving town for college, and Helena was going to a Bible college, at least for two years- Southeast Asia Bible Seminary, over in Indonesia. We didn’t know where we’d end up. Maybe I’d follow her for missionary work once we graduated, but I knew it wouldn’t be West Ham in the end.”

“And here you were making me feel guilty,” Grizz teases.

“Life happens,” Luke says. “And if you want some space, I get it.”

“I don’t need it from you.” A weight is lifted off Grizz’s shoulders. It’s almost been suffocating, walking around with the Guard again while they knew, they knew that he was going to leave them. And every day that it went unmentioned Grizz had questioned whether they even remembered, if they were talking about it behind his back. “And I’m fine. I’m good, really.”

“Okay,” Luke says. Then Clark comes back to drag him into another debate, this time about college football teams, and that day Grizz laughs harder than he has in a long time.

It’s bittersweet, like high school is just being drawn out, but for now, Grizz is content. If this is his life, he’ll make it work.

~~~

Not everything is bad. Some days, Grizz thinks he’s on the verge of giving up. That they’re going to starve or spiral into anarchy and violence before they even make it that far. Some days, Grizz thinks he’d rather die quickly than drag it out. Death is peaceful, in its own way. A never-ending sleep.  
It’s all the little things that keep him going. Like how Allie always pours him a mug of fresh tea in the morning now, or how Gordie’s always up for an hour-long talk about old books and philosophers. Clark has a talent for finding hidden alcohol in rich people’s houses and Jason always finds good spots around town for them to hang out. Bean makes her own mixtapes now and shares the tracks with anyone who’ll listen, and whenever Grizz is feeling down, Helena always manages to appear.

The stars are bright, the morning dew glimmers every morning as the sun comes up, and flowers shoot up through cracks in the sidewalk. Things are still beautiful and people are still beautiful and if Grizz just keeps thinking about that, he might be alright.

Grizz watches the kettle while the sun starts to rise. It was one of those nights where he couldn’t sleep. Not for any reason he could pin down- grief, anxiety, or even excitement- he just laid there and laid there without darkness ever coming for him. Death is peaceful, but so is the night. It’s nice to be alive just to see it again.

Grizz has always loved the stars. Diamonds splashed across ink. All the constellations and stories, the knowledge that generation upon generation before him stared up at those same little dots in the sky and decided to give them names. And generation upon generation later, Grizz could sit on the window ledge and think of all the discoveries those people made, about all the stories they told each other, and their children, and their children’s children.

Nobody bothers him at night either. Grizz has never thought of himself as an isolated person, but living in a house with so many other people, even once they adjusted so he had his own room, and getting up every day to follow a schedule that makes him constantly surrounded by more people… His emotional battery completely crashes at least three times a week. There are few people who don’t drain him dry- one of them, being Allie.

“Visiting the grave again?” Grizz asks as she swings through the front door. She hadn’t taken Cassandra’s death well- of fucking course she hadn’t- but Allie was certainly doing a good job of hiding the extent of her grief in front of the town. And she kept going. No matter what, she kept plowing on- that girl has an iron will. Allie nods, sinking down into one of the kitchen stools. Grizz takes the kettle off and grabs two mugs from the cabinet, feeling much more awake than he probably should at this point.

“Ooh, green tea?” Allie says, leaning to the side to try and see around Grizz.

“Ginger.” He pours the tea out evenly and holds one out to her, already taking a sip from his. He promptly jerks it away, shaking his head at Allie’s amused look. Too hot.

“Blech. Did we run out again?”

“You should ask Will for another box.” Allie wrinkles her nose, but accepts it, cradling the mug against her lips without drinking.

“I saw the flowers,” Allie says. It’s been five months now since prom, since Cassandra’s death. Everything feels so far away. Her eyes shift up and she smiles faintly at Grizz over the rim of the mug. “I liked them.”

“How do you know it was me?” Grizz asks. Allie’s lips twitch of their own accord.

“Who else?”

“We did have an environmental committee,” Grizz tells her.

Allie rolls her eyes. “Okay, but you’re probably the only one that knows about it.”

“There were three members.”

“Exactly.” Allie laughs a little, and Grizz counts it as a victory. She’s had a lot of odd moments lately- not sad moments, necessarily, but blank moments. Where she starts getting unresponsive, unemotional. Grizz tries to make her laugh when he can, gods know she needs it. “You should enlist one of them to help you. I can have Gordie make a new shift on the schedule.”

“For flowers?” Grizz teases.

“For food! It’s probably a smart idea.” Allie finally takes a sip from her mug, pulling a face at the taste. She drinks it anyway. “Can you plant, like, vegetables, too? I’m pretty sure the grocery store has those little seed pack things. We could use them.”

“Sure. Although I think we’d have to pick a more official place if you want to feed the whole town.”

Allie sighs. “Damn. Where’ve you been growing everything?”

“Out by the school,” Grizz says. “Do you know we had a greenhouse? The only way in is from the music classroom- weird setup, right?”

“Mhmm,” Allie hums. “I don’t think we have enough seed packs.”

“Probably not.”

Grizz hears several sets of footsteps on the stairs before the voices accompanying them drift down. His ears automatically perk up at Becca’s voice by now, associating her presence with Sam’s.

“- oh my god, I threw up once. Once,” he hears her say, signing along sharply with every word. She plonks down the staircase with a rapidly signing Sam in tow. Even if Grizz knew sign, there’s no way he’d be able to keep up. Sam’s hands are always so graceful and decisive, and he’s jealous of how easily Becca can follow along. She signs back, muttering, “Just go back to bed, then!”

Will approaches from behind the pair and they quickly snatch up seats around the table. Grizz sits down across from Allie and Sam ends up next to him, waving a hand at Becca. Grizz’s pulse picks up. It’s not like there are assigned seats, but Sam rarely sits next to him. Every time he does, Grizz feels like he’s seeing Sam for the first time all over again, back to a nervous, gangly, sixteen-year-old.

“G’morning,” Sam murmurs. He slouches over the table, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and carrying a very spaced out conversation with Becca that looks more like scattered bits of commentary. His red hair is mussed up and fluffy, and his body is sleep-warm, radiating heat as his arm presses against Grizz’s.

“Morning,” Grizz says. “Do you um-” he taps Sam’s arm to get his attention, but is unprepared for the adorably focused look Sam gets as he squints at Grizz’s lips. “Do you want tea? It’s ginger.”

Sam frowns. “Blech.”

“That’s what I said,” Allie agrees, winking at Grizz. He shakes his head and hopes that the warmth he feels isn’t a blush starting.

He hasn’t talked to Sam much since prom. Life is a constant cycle of work, Guard duties, and trying to stop the town from dissolving into chaos. There isn’t much time for anything else, not that Grizz would have the energy. It’s only after the initial shock, from the entire ‘parallel universe’ situation, Cassandra’s death, and Dewey’s execution, finally starts wearing off that Grizz feels like he’s back in his own mind again.

And back in his own mind means thinking about Sam.

He’s painfully kissable when he’s sleepy, leaning his cheek on his arm and staring up at Grizz with heavy-lidded eyes. “I am not a morning person.”  
Grizz smiles fondly down at him. “I can tell.” He’s unable to resist the urge to touch Sam’s hair, inching his hand forwards to run the tips of his fingers just above Sam’s temple.

The boy’s eyes dip closed for a second. “Why are you up so early? Meal prep?”

“Uh, no. My new rotation’s lunch.”

Sam pulls a face and Grizz reluctantly draws his hand back before it can get weird. “Ugh, why would you give up sleeping in.”

“I couldn’t sleep at all,” Grizz admits. It feels easy to when he’s just talking to Sam, the other three chattering about the merits of different types of tea beside him.

“Chamomile is obviously the best,” Becca is saying.

“Wrong. It’s Oolong,” Grizz interjects, before feeling a light tug at his sleeve and looking back to Sam.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Sam asks him. “I could switch with you.”

“I don’t think Becca would like that,” Grizz says wryly.

“I do what I want.”

“The couch is fine,” Grizz assures him, laughing a little.

Sam nudges his knee, looking concerned. “You need to sleep. Or just lay there- it’s better than getting up or going on your phone.”

“I didn’t get up, I just sat on the window.”

“That counts,” Sam says. “Lay down or else.” Grizz raises his eyebrows. “Or else I march downstairs and lay on the floor. Do you want me to suffer too, Grizz? Do you?”

Grizz laughs at Sam’s serious expression. “I’m fine. Really- it just happens sometimes. I feel fine. What’s your new shift?”

Sleep-addled Sam is in no place to argue, pausing for a moment like he needs to recalibrate for the conversation change. He screws up his face and signs something to Becca, and she ruffles his hair and signs back. Sam turns around victoriously. “Lunch. Meal prep. Are you with me or serving and clean-up?”

Grizz wishes he could be so casually affectionate, so casually in Sam’s life like that. Wait a second, the new schedule- “I’m with you.”

Sam has a shift with him. Finally. Which means he’ll be seeing Sam for much more than brush-bys at night and the occasional morning. The possibilities unravel in Grizz’s head, string slipping from his hands and rolling out into the distance. A million paths to take, all of them Grizz is hoping lead to Sam.

“Good,” Sam declares. Grizz smiles.

“Hey, Grizz?” Allie says. Grizz snaps himself out of it- he’d been leaning awfully close to Sam- and looks to her instead.

“What’s up?”

“I texted Kelly. She checked our registry- how do two hundred vegetable seed packs sound? That’s just from the grocery store too, she hasn’t checked that one shop. . .the gardening, camping, and cooking stuff place?”

“I know where that is,” Grizz says, huffing a laugh. “And that sounds awesome. West Ham gardens, here we come.”

“Tourists will come from states away,” Allie agrees, and Grizz realizes belatedly that she’d been signing along with her words. Maybe it’s past time Grizz looks up a sign language book. “So, the work shift offer is on the table. . .”

“Do I get to pick who? I don’t want Clark or Jason stomping through.”

Allie smirks. “And you definitely don’t want Harry. He’d run down your plants with his Porsche.” And so, Grizz expands one of three categories on his ‘keys to happiness’ list.

“Sam says he’d help.” Grizz looks back to the boy in time to see him signing the end of another sentence, and Allie laughs.

“What?” Grizz asks, grinning at them both. Sam turns a sunny smile to him.

“I’m a shit cook,” Sam says. “Gordon Ramsay would kill me in three seconds if he saw me in the kitchen, but if the food is still alive, I’ll have better luck, right?”

“Right. I trust you.”

“Okay, two volunteers,” Allie says. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and Allie turns to wave over Gordie as he comes down. “Gordie! We were just talking about the work shifts, we need to sign these two up for some farming. . .”

Make that two categories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, life hit me like a train. But here I am, alive and with some thrilling news! This little geek just booked their first acting job!!! AHHHH! We've got a minority-majority cast, and I get the absolute privilege of playing an LGBT character! I'm here to represent, ya'll! And it deals with politics! And it's in the horror genre! I'm reigning back from gushing about it too much because I haven't even had my first day on set yet, but ahhhhh.


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